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Tuesday, October 4, 2011

Terms of Endearment

Since the stroke, Bob has not been able to remember my name. I'm talking not so much about my actual proper name (though that, too, is a problem) but my "pet name". Like many couples, before the stroke, Bob and I did not walk around the house addressing each other by our proper names. We had pet names. Mine for him was "Dar" which is short for darling, but also means "gift" in Polish. Or I called him "Bucky", don't ask me why. He always called me "Sweetheart" or "Sweets" for short. I know it's rather sappy, but I certainly have missed that.

Back in January, when he first came home, he kept calling me "Brenda".

(Which really brings to mind one simple question, which is: Just who the hell is Brenda??)

After he got over the "Brenda stage," he stopped addressing me completely and when he wanted me, I became just "hey" or "yoo hoo" or occasionally "hey you". Not very romantic, that.

So you can imagine my joy when, just yesterday, Bob turned to look at me and grabbed my hand and said, "Sweetheart."

Just that one word.

And I am elated! I mean, I'm like a 13-year-old with a crush on a boy who just smiled at her. I want to do cartwheels through the house!!---but I won't because I'd probably just break my neck.

That is one of the best blogs I have ever read. Not only because of his recognition of "sweetheart", but because of his improvement in overall health. You are such an inspiration in all the work and effort you have done.

Hi DianeRead your Blogs all the time. Can't even begin to think of everything you have been through. Bob is so lucky to have you. He sure has come a long way. This was a great improvment, for him. And what a sweet thing for him to say. Thinking of you both. Love Neta

Welcome To Our Pink House

About Me

Bob and I were married 09/16/94. He is my soulmate, the love of my life. Bob is an artist and I am a writer.
On 10/20/10, Bob, following his doctor's advice, underwent a carotid endarterectomy. When I left him in ICU that night, he was fine and I thought in good hands. Two hours after my departure, a nurse noted on his chart that Bob's speech was slurred and his right arm was paralyzed. The nurse did not call a doctor. Later that night, the nurse noted that Bob could not move his right arm or leg, still a doctor was not called. The next morning, the nurse noted that he was paralyzed on the right side, a "12" on the Glasgow Coma Scale, disoriented and confused, but no doctor was informed. I arrived at 9:00 a.m. and immediately called for the doctor. He was rushed to surgery. It was 12 hours too late. The CAT scan showed 2/3 of his brain had been damaged. I was told he would not survive. Somehow, he did.
Bob was discharged from the hospital on 12/31/10 and, although the hospital wanted him sent to a nursing home, I brought him home instead. This is the story of our journey since that day. This is also a love story.
(Bob passed away 5/28/15 and I am trying to survive....)